


Earthly Stars

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aftercare, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Voice Kink, vague Shadowbringers spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Lahabrea and Igeyorhm take some quality time off their duties.
Relationships: Igeyorhm/Lahabrea (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16
Collections: Anonymous





	Earthly Stars

There are few things Igeyorhm of the Convocation of Fourteen loves more than her job and the gleaming city of Amaurot.

Most of them revolve around the Speaker — Lahabrea.

Her husband.

She loves listening to the Speaker as he gives his speeches during Convocation meetings, voice enchanted to reach every cranny of the hall, deep and rich and velvety.

She loves silencing the Speaker with a light kiss behind a pillar in that same hall, their colleagues just a few paces away and unaware of the way he bites his lower lip to stifle a sigh when she hooks her leg around his hip.

She loves reducing the Speaker to a sobbing mess beneath her in their bedroom, pale gold eyes glazed over with pleasure given by her will.

"How well you are doing, love," Igeyorhm murmurs. To Lahabrea, she must appear as the very incarnation of a queen — propped on her elbow next to him, a subtle smile on her painted lips, her dark blue locks only slightly disheveled. What reveals her enjoyment of the sweet torment she inflicts on him is the flush gracing her pale cheeks as she massages his cock, his rare moans a treat to savor, his voice coming out every time her thumb swipes pre from his searing hot flesh.

Lahabrea is at the mercy of her whims; his groans and desperate need for her touch undeniable proof of his delight.

He tries so hard to be good for her, to keep still and revel in her attentions as her hands work him, torturously slow, to the edge... and then stop. He whines, a plaintive little noise that comes out from behind stubbornly sealed lips. Igeyorhm feels herself grow even more slick between her thighs at the sound, and rewards her husband with a delicate kiss on the shell of his ear. "You work so hard for the good of Amaurot," she whispers, pumping his cock once more with a flick of her wrist. He shudders, her breath a warm breeze on his painfully sensitive skin.

"Let me take care of you, dearest — let me show you my appreciation for your efforts." She nuzzles her husband's shoulder with her nose. Another kiss on the pulse point on his sweat-slick neck, frantic beat under her lips, and her hand trails from between his legs to his abdomen, feeling the sparse hair there and the light tremors of the muscles under her fingertips. "If you are good for me. And you will, I know it."

Lahabrea is so wound up by her ministrations that his only response is a nod, a small movement that drains him of his remaining strength. Turning his head slightly to meet his wife's smile and adoring, expectant green eyes, with no small amount of effort he lets go of the sheets and raises a trembling hand to trace Igeyorhm's full lips with a light touch of his thumb. She sees the unspoken request and obligingly leans down into him, their mouths and tongues meeting in a searing kiss, his head cradled in her hand and his fingers moving down to caress the column of her neck and her collarbone.

He craves to embrace her in full; Igeyorhm can infer that much by listening to the mess of garbled, wordless thoughts he sends across their bond, but he also craves her praise, and that is the request she wants to grant, with hands and lips and soft words whispered into ears that don't hear them often enough.

All too soon the kiss ends, by Igeyorhm's initiative — dragging it for too long would lead to her forsaking her resolve and take her husband _right there and then_ , to watch his flushed face as he is made undone by the feeling of her, soft and warm, all around him... She knows Lahabrea would not complain, either way, but his craving would remain unsatisfied, and Igeyorhm never does things by half.

She files the thought away for another day. This moment, this eternity, is for her husband.

Igeyorhm lets him relax for a few precious instants, her hand resuming its aimless wandering across his abdomen and chest. Fingertips and nails on his nipples and sides, followed by short gasps that become more and more breathless the longer she drags her teasing on, her teeth occasionally finding purchase on his shoulder or the tip of his ear for a light bite when she's not busy murmuring _how good and clever he is_ , how _his brilliant mind and bottomless creativity_ enchanted her to him even before their official bonding.

She watches every reaction of his with rapt attention. She presses herself into him a bit more with every breathless moan that escapes his lips, every broken attempt at bringing relief to himself, ever obedient, ever _hers_.

She feels his pleasure inside her and feeds her own into him — wordlessly tells him of her satisfaction at his submission.

How good he makes her feel.

How his shy, almost demure touches ignite a flame in her. She wants to feel loved and treasured; Lahabrea gives all of that, and _more_ , to her with no demands for himself, and so Igeyorhm gives, and gives back, and basks in the way he is desperate for her next touch, for her to lead him to purest bliss at her own pace.

She briefly considers bringing him on the brink over and over as her hand, once again, travels down to circle his cock and begins stroking him back to full hardness, unhurried, her eyes ever on him.

He throws his head back and _moans_ , rich and deep, and Igeyorhm once more finds that no other sound on the entire star can compare to her husband's voice — her body betrays her pleasure with a deeper flush and a near painful pulse at the apex of her thighs.

She is almost grateful that Lahabrea is keeping his eyes shut. She's certain that were he to see her in that aroused state, he would insist in seeing her to completion before achieving his own. On any other day, she would gladly let him… but right now, _she_ is the one who wants to see him unraveled before her.

Her stray thought shoots right into him, and she feels him grow even more stiff than she thought possible. She strokes him a bit firmer, a bit harder, her hand squeezing him from base to tip in the way he likes best. His hips jerk forward with the newfound stimulation before he bites his lip and tries to keep still, a grunt making his chest vibrate with the effort.

Igeyorhm presses herself flush into him, her leg hiked to circle his, and kisses his sweat-dampened neck as her hand keeps the new rhythm. "A bit more, my dear, be good for me for a bit longer," she whispers. His brief whine and nod in response are all she needs to arch her body into his, to melt into him, to _want_ the evidence of his pleasure leaking from inside her.

She keeps that thought to herself. _Another_ _day_ , she reminds herself, yet cannot help the excitement it lights up within her. "You are so beautiful like this — so good for me…"

She feels — hears — his body taut like a bowstring about to snap, his muscles rippling with the effort to obey her softly whispered commands. She can feel his peak approaching, only held back with monumental, fraying willpower and his desire to live up to her praises, to be worthy of her adoration and respect.

Her own resolve wanes, too, under the dual assault of his love mixed with his desire for her, and she nearly stutters when she murmurs her final order, her hand moving with determined purpose: "Come for me, my heart—"

She feels him twitch one last time, and then her senses are overtaken by his orgasm, the heat of it crashing in waves into her and it's nearly too much even for her—

An eternity — an instant where they both lay entwined, panting, too spent to do anything beyond basking in each other's presence, the physical contact of their bodies and the aetherial touch of their souls.

Igeyorhm comes down first, her body entirely too warm and sweating and her hand slick with Lahabrea's release, but it's not an unpleasant feeling. His mind is quiet, sated, his breathing slowing down as his muscles finally relax and he lays bonelessly on the sheets. Igeyorhm smiles a secret smile as she disentangles herself from her husband and wills into existence some spare pieces of cloth and a bowl of water to clean up.

She could wave the sweat and fluids away with a thought — yet, she finds she enjoys the simple pleasure of washing hers and her husband's bodies after such exertions, with no other intent than prolonging the intimacy they so rarely steal for themselves.

Lahabrea raises himself on his elbows at the first contact of wet cloth against his flushed skin. He hums in contentment as his wife cleans up the mess left on his groin and thighs with careful touches. Then, just as she is about to redirect her efforts to herself, he extends a hand to grab at her wrist and pull her on top of him.

At her surprised squeak, he smirks and locks his now sharp gaze with hers. He places a few errant strands of her midnight blue hair back behind her ear as he mulls over, his thoughts shrouded even to her.

Igeyorhm waits, keeping her curiosity in check with eyes roaming in appreciation of her husband's bare form and fingers playing lightly with the small plait Lahabrea wears behind his left ear. She had braided those locks on a whim during their first night together, and he has worn it with pride ever since. The memory brings a fond smile to her lips.

It is after several seconds of consideration that Lahabrea finally speaks. "Whilst I appreciate your attentions, it is my belief you have not paid due diligence to a matter of utmost import."

Igeyorhm tilts her head at him, brow furrowed in vague concern. "Oh? And, pray tell, what might it be that escaped even _my_ notice?"

Lahabrea's smirk widens at her remark. His unoccupied hand travels down his wife's body, careful not to leave even a single one of his wife’s sensitive spots unattended in his path. He watches as both realization and a deep flush dawn on her face as his hand skims to a halt on her inner thigh.

"A Speaker's mouth does not serve words only."

**Author's Note:**

> _Dumps into the fire, scurries back into the shadows_
> 
> Special thanks to Nightmist for the beta, to NorsePearl, Antiloquist and my FC mates for bearing my overthinking for three months!!


End file.
